Despite the Rain
by Ryeloza
Summary: It's raining, and she doesn't want to get out of bed.  Tom and Lynette, pre-series.


**Disclaimer: **I am not doing this for profit. I have nothing to do with _Desperate Housewives_.

**Story Summary: **It's raining, and she doesn't want to get out of bed. Tom and Lynette, pre-series.

**A/n: **Fluff, anyone? I certainly need it.

Feedback is most warmly welcomed and always makes me smile. A thousand thank yous to any of you who take the time to let me know what you think.

-Ryeloza

**Despite the Rain**

A story by **Ryeloza**

"Hey lazy bones, you getting out of bed today?"

From beneath the blankets came a groan, the comforter shifting just a bit as Lynette burrowed even further into the bed. "It's raining," she mumbled, and her left hand snaked out to press the pillow more firmly over her head.

"Yep."

She ignored the implicit, "What's your point?" that underscored his agreement. Without even looking at him, she could tell that he was smiling, bemused by their sudden reversal in roles. Usually she was the one prodding him out of bed, and not half as kindly as this.

The mattress creaked as Tom suddenly and none too gently flopped down next to her, clearly paying no heed to the suit she'd pressed off yesterday. "You changed your mind?"

She grunted—neither a confirmation nor a denial. It was the rain; a thunderstorm to be exact. The morning was too dark and gloomy to rise. It most definitely had nothing to do with the fact that her feet felt so swollen that she wasn't even sure if they would fit into her shoes this morning.

"You know it's okay if you did." There was a tug on the pillow; reluctantly she let him pull it away from her face. "Lynette?"

"I didn't change my mind."

"Okay."

"I am going to get up."

As far as self-motivational pep talks went, it really didn't work. Not one inch of her body moved to get out of bed; not even one toe wriggled. Wearily, she forced her eyes open and blinked up at her husband. To her great annoyance, Tom sat twiddling his thumbs, his eyes averted as though he was waiting with the utmost patience. "Oh," he said, pretending just to notice that she'd opened her eyes, "did you mean later? Because I just assumed that meant right now."

"Ha ha."

"Sweetie…" And even before he finished the thought, Lynette knew what he was going to say and shut her eyes against it. "If you're not feeling up to going to work…"

"Tom…"

"The doctor said that you should be resting anyway…"

"Tom…"

"And you know he said with twins—"

"Tom!" From outside the window, a bolt of lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and a moment later the entire house seemed to groan. The lights flickered once and then the room sunk into a gray darkness so dim that when she opened her eyes again, she could hardly make out Tom's features. Very suddenly, all the fight seemed to drain out of her; her exasperation with having this conversation for the umpteenth time faded to the background; nothing was left but a bold exhaustion she felt from head to foot. "I'm not ready to be done."

It was the first time she'd said the words out loud, and they seemed to expand and overtake the room so fully that she wondered how she'd managed to hold them inside of herself for so long. Tom inclined his head, some kind of acknowledgement that she couldn't decipher without seeing his eyes. "I know," he said, though she couldn't imagine that he possibly did—and not just because it had been her secret.

Silence stretched out between them, ponderous but not uncaring. This was something they'd been arguing about since the first sonogram—before they'd even known they were having twins. Tom thought she ought to stay home with them, and she…

Well, if she was truthful, she didn't know what she wanted. And right there lay the heart of the problem: this strange broken pain inside of her that seemed to tear her right in two. To give up her job now, just as her career was finally taking off seemed unthinkable, but it did nothing to stop the little ache that seemed to grow inside of her every day as she thought about being apart from the two little people inside of her whom she'd been inseparable from for nearly eight months now. It made little sense to her how much she loved these babies already, and the intensity of it was nearly overwhelming.

The ambivalence hurt. What was worse was the little spark blossoming inside of her that made her fear she'd already made up her mind without even knowing it.

Tom sat forward, twisting his arm as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and thoughtlessly tossed it to the floor. "What are you doing?" she asked, watching as his tie followed suit. Then he turned, lying down to face her and brushing her hair back from her temple.

"What if we both play hooky today?"

"We can't."

"It's raining. And we haven't picked out baby names yet."

Distraction, concession: whatever it was, Lynette felt a sudden, untamable affection for this man in bed with her. Perhaps it was inexplicable to anyone besides her. Perhaps it made no sense. But in the two years they'd been together, she'd learned that very little about being in love made any sense at all.

Outside the thunder crashed again and the rain pounded against the windows. And despite the gloom, Lynette couldn't bite back her smile.


End file.
